


Bold as Brass

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catherine and Jim discuss recent events at the crime lab on a rainy afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bold as Brass

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: takes place in season eight, shortly after the events of "Dead Doll."

“Oh my god,” Catherine panted, winded from exertion. “I’m so wet.” 

“I know, baby,” Jim returned. He reached for the material at her waist. “Take this off.” 

Catherine allowed him to untie the belt that held the dripping wet leather jacket shut at her waist, pulled off the hat she’d been wearing to shield herself from the rain, and shook out her curls, out of breath from the dash from the car to the front door with her scene kit and foul weather gear weighing her down. Raindrops showered the floor, joining the puddles made by their boots.

“Thank god the storm held off until we were finishing up,” she said, shoving her kit and purse under the side table with her foot. “I hate having to scramble to recover evidence.” She took Jim’s wet honest-to-god-Humphrey-Bogart-style trench coat and her leather jacket and carried them into the mud room to hang them up. “I feel bad for your guys who have to go canvass the neighborhood.”

“I don’t,” Jim replied matter-of-factly. “Better them than me as far as I’m concerned.” He pulled off his stout black boots and set them by the heating vent to dry. 

Catherine laughed. “You know you’d be out there with them if you didn’t have ulterior motives for coming home.”

“Hey, if they had girlfriends with bodies like yours, they’d be using their seniority as much as they could, too.” He slid his hands up under her sweater, laughing when she jumped at his touch. 

“Your hands are FREEZING!” Catherine scolded, swatting at him. “Now I’m cold AND wet!”

“Can’t have that,” Jim replied. He backed her up against the wall and kissed her, long, hard, and deep. “Why don’t I see what I can do about making you warm and wet?” His hands slid down to cup her ass and pull her closer to him. 

“Mmm.” Catherine melted against him, returning the kiss with equal intensity. “Why don’t you go turn on the fire place while I get a blanket? I can’t think of anything I want more than to snuggle with you on the couch.” 

The thunder started as she was pulling her favorite alpaca fleece throw out of the closet. Grinning, she hurried back into the living room and drew back the blinds on the patio doors. She loved watching the lightning as it lit up the sky, loved watching the scrubby bushes and trees outside whip in the wind. Her back porch faced the hills, so she had a view of shale and stone, sand and tumbled crags as the lightning forked over them. 

She lit the jar and pillar candles that sat on the end tables and kitchen counter, then turned the lights off. Jim had the gas fire going and it lit the room with a warm glow. 

“You trying to seduce me?” Brass asked, coming up from behind and sliding his arms around her. “All this darkness and flickering candles.”

“Maybe,” Catherine said coyly, turning in his arms. “Or maybe I just want to get cozy and watch the storm.”

“As long as I get to make out with you, I don’t care what we do.” 

“You sound like a teenager,” she laughed. “People our age don’t make out.”

“The hell they don’t.” Brass slid his hand into her hair, tangled his fingers in her curls, pulled her head back gently so that he could kiss her throat. “I don’t know what you call what we’ve been doing every spare second we’re alone but I definitely call groping you on your couch and feeling you up in the Denali making out.”

“We …” Catherine searched for a term. “Make love.”

“You sound like a Bryan Adams song,” Brass snorted. “Groping and feeling up is not the same as making love.” 

“Semantics,” Catherine scoffed. “The groping and the feeling up is foreplay and therefore fall into the making love category.”

Jim kissed the side of her neck and bit just hard enough to make her gasp and her skin sing. “You and me, on the bed, moving with each other, making each other moan … that’s making love.” His hands moved underneath her shirt, up and down her back. “Everything else is making out.”

“You win,” Catherine sighed, closing her eyes and sinking into his touch. “Are we making out or making love on the couch?”

“Making out,” Brass said decidedly. “We’ll move to the bed when we make love.” He kissed her sweetly and whispered against her mouth, “I want to work you up first.” 

When the kiss ended, she tugged him toward the couch where they settled underneath the alpaca throw, Jim sitting up against a pile of pillows, Catherine snuggled between his thighs, his arms around her, her head resting on his shoulder. 

“So how are you doing, baby?” Brass murmured into her ear when he leaned down to kiss her neck. “Are you handling being the big boss?”

“Well, since it’s only temporary while Sara gets back on her feet, I’m fine with it. If it was for the long haul, I’d probably be feeling a little bit overwhelmed right now. Cases are coming in fast and furious.” She tipped her head back so that he could reach her mouth. “Good thing I’ve got someone to help me relieve the tension.”

He laughed softly and kissed her again. “I’m good at that. In case you hadn’t all ready noticed.”

“I had.” She played her fingers along the top of his thigh. “You’re better than Xanax.”

“Cause I don’t make you feel drowsy and slightly drunk.”

“Cause Xanax doesn’t give me multiple orgasms when I’ve had a really long day. You do.” She slid her fingers along his inner thigh then abruptly stilled them, sobering. “You talk to Grissom lately?”

“Yesterday. He was helping Sara with the PT on her arm. She’s having a hard time getting her mobility back.” 

Catherine shuddered at the thought of losing the ability to effectively use one of her limbs. “How did he sound?”

“You know Gil—he’s outwardly as unemotional as Mr. Spock. But he still feels guilty for what happened to Sara out in the desert. That’s why he’s taking so much time off to be with her.” He fell silent when a roll of thunder boomed outside and a bright streak of lightning shot across the sky. “I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if something happened to you, Cat. 

“Nothing’s going to,” she said firmly. “That’s why I carry a taser and a gun.”

“Sara had both, too,” he answered. “And Natalie still got the drop on her. I don’t want you to be gung-ho about your safety, Cath. Cocky means careless.”

“Jim, do you honestly think I’d start getting careless now, after what happened to Nick and Greg and Sara? Give me a little credit for common sense.”

He chuckled. “I give you a lot of credit for common sense. But I also know that you’re bold. I love that about you—hell, it turns me on so much sometimes I can barely stand it. But now more than ever, I want you to temper that boldness so I don’t have to go through what Gil’s going through.” 

“You know, you’re a fine one to talk about boldness,” she replied huffily, shooting him a reproachful look. “Who’s been shot here, you or me?”

Brass held up his hands in surrender. “Guilty. I admit it. And I’m not saying this to try to control you, Cath. God knows we’ll see the second coming of Christ before that ever happens.” 

He laughed when she tried to jab him in the ribs and they tussled for a few moments until Brass pinned her with her wrists in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her sweetly, slowly. 

“I’m not trying to control you,” he repeated. “I just want to keep you safe.” He released her wrists and pulled her up to him in a fierce embrace. “Three guesses as to why.”

Catherine placed a series of kisses along his jaw line. “Because you’d rather flirt with me when you’re at the lab than with Gil.”

Brass laughed. “That’s one.”

“Because I can always get you a table at the Wynn.”

“Two.”

“And because I’ve got the highest solve rate in the lab.”

“Got all three,” he joked, stroking her hair away from her face. “But there’s one more.”

“What’s that?” she murmured, her thumb playing temptingly over his lips.

“You’re my lover,” he whispered, taking her hand and kissing her palm. “And I want to be able to hold you whenever I want.”

Catherine’s mouth covered his and he drifted on her sigh and the sound of thunder rolling in the hills. 

END.


End file.
